Things that make me smile - part 2

This list could literally go on for days. But here's part two of the many things that make me smile!

Memes. Duh. They're funny. Except for the ones that aren't. Those are dumb.

Neil Diamond. He must have been on the radio at a lot when I was in the womb; that's my theory — I must have thought he was my dad or something. I just love the man and all of his music (except his Christmas album; he's a Jew, for golly's sake). I saw him perform live once, actually, in Columbus, Ohio. He had a really bad cold or something so he sounded like a monster. Not even kidding. The venue had to refund a lot of tickets. I loved it anyway. 

John Denver. I may as well just say, "a lot of musicians like Neil Diamond and John Denver; you know, from that era." Throw Jim Croce in there. I melt every time Stevie Wonder gets airplay. I love so much of that old music. Can you tell I was born in the '70s? In fact ...

The 1970s. I love this decade. I love the hair, the fashions, the home furnishings, the wood paneling, the cars, the music, even the shag carpeting, you name it. It's pure magic, all the earth tones, the return to nature and calmness and comfort after the end of the Vietnam War and the 1960s, which tore the nation apart. It's an overreaction to all that hell, sure, but I wish I could decorate my house like that and immerse myself in it. 

Babies. They're pure. And silly. And perfect. They are as perfect as a human being can get, right out of the box. I can't help but smile when I see a baby. Any baby. They're all great. 

A clean car. Especially after it's been dirty a really long time. A little vacuum job and interior detailing, maybe a scrub-a-dub-dub on the outside. Good as new. It's just a little thing, but it makes me feel great every time. And every time I clean my car, I ask, "How the hell did that get under Isaiah's seat?" I swear he's part squirrel. Or part dog. Y'all should see the stuff he brings home. I have little corners dedicated to his kleptomania. I think he takes decorating tips from his mother. 

Driving around. It doesn't have to be a full-blown road trip. It doesn't have to have a destination, in fact, I think it's better without one. The simple act of driving around is wonderful. It puts my mind at ease and takes me out of whatever stuckness I'm in. And often puts a smile on my face.  

Childhood friends. They know a lot of stupid stuff about you. And they are a conduit to a simpler time when life was probably a lot better. And a lot less hectic and noisy. They know how to put a smile on your face. 

Texture. I remember hanging on to my baby blanket for a really long time. I rubbed the edge of it, which had a silky lining, between my fingers as a self-soothing thing. My son did the same thing since he was a baby, and only recently gave it up, only he used the tags on things ("taggies," as he called them) instead. Textures in things like clothing still make me smile. I used to wear corduroy pants because of the texture, but it's not the kind of texture you can readily feel. And it makes an annoying swishing sound when walking. When I used to take photos, I would process them with as much texture as possible. I don't know why it makes me happy, but it does.

Making up stories. When I put my son to bed at night, sometimes we sing a little or just talk. And sometimes we share made-up stories. Usually, his are really short just so he can listen to the inanity of whatever I come up with next. But his last story is usually really long, just because he doesn't want me to leave the room. All of this while his "star master" projects the stars and moon in various colors on the ceiling in a never-ending swirling motion. I swear it puts me in the mood for sleep faster than it does for him. 

Loud sneezes. If you feel the person should apologize after they sneeze, then that's what I'm talking about. If you feel physically or emotionally assaulted after they sneeze, that's the thing. I think loud sneezes are hilarious. If you jump a little and feel sorry for the person, that's the sneeze I'm talking about. If you're the sneezer, it's not as much fun. In fact, it hurts a little.

Little moments of truth. When it all comes out in an unexpected moment, I love that. Just let it out. It doesn't have to be a special place or time. It's the little moments that make up the fabric of our lives. Honesty and truth are what I value above all else, so when someone busts out with some of that, I can't help but smile. Because I know this world isn't set up to accommodate all of that so it took some effort and chutzpah. Even if it's something I don't want to hear, I applaud you.

Two minutes hate. I love when someone goes on a mini-rant about something. But they have to keep it short. And then let it go. It's unrehearsed and honest and belligerent and perfect. And then it's over and you look at them a little differently after that. 

Sunshine. It's such a simple thing. And I have to wear sunglasses now, but it's worth it. It warms not just my body but my heart. Living in a northern latitude makes you appreciate a lot of things. Sunshine is one of them. 

Cindy. Yes, I already mentioned her. But in case you forgot, I'm saying it again. Cindy. When a girl leaves your life and you continue to love her, she's something special.

Apathy. Yes, say it: "I don't care." It's freeing. As long as it is honest. There are so many things in this world worth caring about, and so many things are not. Say goodbye to the things that aren't worth caring about. 

Progress. It's the finality. The closure. Walking away from a done deal. Walking toward something else. I've made a lot of progress over the last few years on some really difficult stuff. I've put in hours of work just documenting the process and progress. I've amassed nearly 350 posts, some here and some unpublished. Yes, I was messy and broken and suffering at times, but I'm on the mend now. That's definitely something to smile about. I mean, consider all I had to deal with over the last few years. This blog contains numerous storylines, some of which have essentially wrapped up. I realized recently I don't have to write this blog anymore, which is a good thing. I feel my audience already reached this conclusion, as it appears they've abandoned it. That's a little bit sad, as this blog has been a safe place to grow and fall apart and throw theories at a wall, some sticking but most falling to the ground. It's part happy and part sad. Sometimes we love our crutch and don't want to give it up. It looks like I'll continue to post, but whatever I post will be extra because the main thing is done. I got closure for my divorce. It's interesting to note this happened about a year and a half after my divorce was finalized. I recently read it takes most people 18 months to process a divorce. It was exactly that amount of time for me. What my blog allowed me to do was take apart the overwhelmingness of the things I was feeling. One thing at a time. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. There was the childhood stuff, my divorce, and more, but I digested it one bite at a time.

You may ask about the Cindy storyline, for which I have no answer. When someone decides to leave your life, you don't get to argue (which I tried); you have to simply accept it. I will mention this, though. God has answered all my concerns and prayers concerning her. At one point, I asked Him to educate me about her and help me understand her, as I was terribly confused by her words and behavior. This summer she shared with me a book she said was like reading her autobiography. That book answered so many of my questions. No, it doesn't tell me why she ended our relationship (my sickly body, my tepid mind, my sometimes big emotions, something I never even thought about?), but it explained so much. God answered every single one of my questions, often repeatedly and with convincing, sometimes far-out circumstances. Anyway, with her permission, I hope to write about what that book taught me someday.

LaVar Burton. I loved Reading Rainbow as a kid. It was one of my shows. Often, I would wake up to an empty house in the summertime, and PBS offered me some shelter. There was also Seasame Street and Pinwheel, though those felt geared toward a younger audience. LaVar showed me books were made of magic. I've lived the rest of my life infatuated with that magic. Thank you, LaVar.

Weddings. You would think I'd be incredibly cynical and jaded by my experience with relationships. But I still get excited for people who are embarking on the great gamble of marriage and love. It's partly because I want that. But mostly because I want them to be happy. I want to believe it's possible. That part of me that dreams and hopes will never die. Maybe the tale I've spun here will have a fairytale ending, too. If not, at least I can enjoy seeing it happen to someone else.


Thanks for reading. I hope something here put a smile on your face too!